


Promises Kept

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Series: Taking What Comes [6]
Category: Borderlands, Borderlands (Video Games), Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Complicated Consent, Knotting, M/M, Manipulative Behavior, Mildly Dubious Consent, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 17:42:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10621899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: Even the long game has an end goal.(Or, Rhys' first heat.)





	

There’s a crash in the kitchen behind him, and Jack reaches automatically for the gun strapped to his side even as he turns away from the stove.

It’s just Rhys, though, looking bewildered as he blinks at the remains of a ceramic plate at his feet. He spreads his fingers, turning his hand over like the answer to this betrayal is written on his palm. Jack eyes the way the kid’s fingers shake, glances at the flush spreading across his cheeks, and puts two and two together.

Fucking _finally_.

Rhys starts to kneel to pick up the pieces, but Jack is already moving, catching him by the arm.

“Nuh-uh, nope, over here.” Jack guides Rhys toward one of the kitchen chairs, and Rhys makes a surprised noise when his legs buckle underneath him, not so much sitting as falling into it. Jack tests Rhys’ forehead with the back of his hand; not quite fever-warm, but getting there, and as he watches pink starts to creep up from underneath Rhys’ collar.

“Don’t move,” he says, and Rhys blinks eyes that are starting to go glassy but doesn’t otherwise respond. Jack strides across the kitchen, ignoring the _crunch_ of broken ceramic under his shoes, and fills a glass from the tap. When he brings it back Rhys is shifting in his seat, brows drawn down and gaze focused slightly inward as if he’s listening to something Jack can’t hear. Jack wraps Rhys’ unresisting fingers around the glass and lifts it to the kid’s lips.

“Drink,” he orders, and Rhys swallows obediently.

Jack pats his thigh and returns to the stove, carefully removing the pan from the burner and setting it aside to cool. He double-checks that the stove is off, because he’s waited a _long_ time for this and he’ll be damned if he sets the kitchen on fire while he and Rhys are - occupied. He sweeps up the mess in the center of the room, and when he checks on Rhys again the kid has set the glass aside and is staring at Jack, rubbing his hand on his thigh. He’s frowning as if he’s working through a complex problem in his head and he _knows_ that Jack is the answer but he can’t quite figure out how.

Jack smiles.

Jack steps deliberately back across the kitchen and the kid’s pupil’s dilate, nostrils flaring as Jack moves closer. When Jack runs a hand through Rhys’ hair the kid’s eyes close, head tipping back, and when Jack slides his hand down to cup the back of his neck Rhys _shakes_.

“How you feeling, kiddo?” Jack asks softly. Rhys’ eyes, when they open, are all pupil - dark and hungry and edging into _desperate._

“I -” Rhys blinks and tries again. “I feel-” He licks his lips and seems to get distracted by that, catching his bottom lip in his teeth and worrying at it, inhaling at the sensation.

Jack’s never gone through this from the omega side, obviously, but he’s been told that it’s a little like being drunk, the omega’s body flooded with hormones that magnify pleasant sensations and dull everything else. It’s easy to get distracted in this state, and if left alone it’s easy for an omega in the early stages of heat to hurt themselves by accident, grip suddenly turning loose or legs wobbly. Most omegas get a few days of warning, but everyone knows what to do in the case of a sudden onset: get the omega somewhere safe. Hydrate them if you can; they’re going to sweat it out soon enough. Don’t leave them alone.

Rhys is as safe as he’s going to get in Jack’s house. They missed breakfast but he’s got some water in him. And Jack _definitely_ has no intention of leaving Rhys alone.

“Did you take your pill this morning, pumpkin?” Rhys frowns like he doesn’t quite understand what Jack is saying. Instead of answering he leans forward, hooking his fingers in Jack’s belt and making a pleased little noise as he pulls Jack closer. He seems fascinated by the texture of Jack’s shirt, rubbing his cheek along Jack’s stomach, but then his fingers tighten around Jack’s belt buckle and Jack has to put a stop to this right now or the first time he knots the kid is going to be right here on the kitchen floor, and Jack had definitely planned on a bed for that. He tightens his grip on Rhys’ neck, ignoring what the noise Rhys makes does to his dick, and pulls the kid back until he can see his face.

“Rhys. Focus.” Rhys blinks at him, mouth slightly agape, and Jack resists the urge to slip his fingers in. “Did you take your pill this morning?” Rhys frowns again, and it’s clearly getting harder for him to think back but he’s trying. Jack’s not sure that Rhys is fully aware of the way he’s shifting his legs wider in the chair, or the way he’s trying to tug Jack closer by his belt, but after a moment of hesitation Rhys nods, slow but sure. Jack grins, the feeling of one last piece slotting into place unfurling warm in his stomach; unlikely the kid would get knocked up during his first heat, but no sense taking chances.

Rhys smiles back tentatively, and Jack pulls the kid to his feet. He stumbles, legs still not working entirely right, and Jack pulls him close with one hand around his waist and the other sliding back up into Rhys’ hair, holding him still. The kid trembles in his arms as Jack pulls his head back, scenting all the way from Rhys’ temple down the side of his neck to his bonding site. Jack breathes in, getting a healthy shot of those pheromones deep in his lungs, dick stirring against his thigh.

It’s considered gauche - not to mention risky - to play with an unbonded omega’s bonding site, especially during their heat, but Rhys doesn’t know any better, and anyway Jack loves the way the kid whimpers against him, legs barely holding him up, when Jack traces his teeth over that bundle of nerves.

“Upstairs,” Jack growls into Rhys’ ear, and the kid’s breath catches in his chest. “Now.”

Rhys nearly brings them both crashing down as he tries to break for the hall and tug Jack after him in the same motion, apparently torn between getting upstairs as fast as possible and maintaining contact. He settles a bit when Jack rests a hand heavily on the back of his neck, but he still nearly trips on the stairs sneaking glances back over his shoulder. He hesitates on the threshold to Jack’s bedroom, but Jack crowds him inside, shutting the door and turning the lock behind him.

Rhys turns, color high in his cheeks and hand clenched at his side. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do, and Jack has to hide a smile at the thought that he probably _doesn’t_. Oh, theoretically, Rhys probably knows what’s coming next, but in practice he’s looking to Jack for direction, and fuck it - Jack lets a self-satisfied grin spread across his face as he crosses the few feet between them and takes the kid’s face in his hands. Rhys’ lips are warm and and pliable, just like the rest of him, and he opens his mouth eagerly to Jack’s, groaning as Jack takes what he wants. When he pulls back Rhys is breathing hard, eyes glassy but not glazed, fixed on Jack like he’s going to show Rhys how to keep breathing.

In a way, Jack supposes, that’s not far from the truth.

Rhys is clearly caught up in the early stage of heat, body flushed and nerves oversensitive, but although he’s slipping toward that hormone-fueled state of desperate single-mindedness he’s not quite there yet. If this were any other occasion Jack might ease him into it with a handjob or two, get Rhys relaxed and ready, let his heat pull him under like a gentle tide. But the heat will steal away Rhys’ presence of mind soon enough, and before it does Jack wants to have Rhys tight and trembling around his knot, gasping at the unfamiliar stretch. Jack wants the kid to still be present, to be _aware_ of exactly who’s filling him up and claiming him.

Jack’s fingers trail down Rhys’ neck to the buttons of his shirt, and Rhys’ hand comes up to help but Jack brushes him away. He slides the specially tailored shirt down Rhys’ shoulders, careful to drag his fingers over as much of Rhys’ skin as possible, so the kid is shaking by the time Jack strips the shirt off his arm and drops in in a careless pile on the floor. Rhys is a gift worth unwrapping slowly, worth savoring, but Jack finds his hands speeding up, turning Rhys impatiently so he can press himself against the kid’s back while he undoes Rhys’ belt. Rhys’ head falls back on Jack’s shoulder, mouth open on a gasp as Jack draws the kid’s cock out, already flushed and leaking. The kid’s close to coming already, frame shaking in Jack’s arms, and they’ve barely even gotten started.

“Up on the bed,” Jack says, voice dropping into a growl. “On your knees.” Rhys scrambles to obey, shedding the rest of his clothing with a few impatient kicks. Jack’s close behind him, letting shoes and pants and shirt fall where they may, levering himself up on the bed so he can wrap himself around Rhys’ back, scenting along the kid’s hairline. The smell of omega pheromones fill the room, and if Jack’s feeling a little dizzy he can only imagine how Rhys feels, overwhelmed and sliding deeper into a heat-fueled haze with every frantic beat of his heart. Rhys squirms as Jack slides his hand up the kid’s body, indecisive as he tries to push up into Jack’s hands and back into Jack’s chest at the same time. Jack forces his hands to move slowly, deliberately, to savor this moment, but Rhys apparently decides that he’s taking too long, whining impatiently and grinding his ass back onto Jack’s dick. Jack’s hands tighten on Rhys at the slide of that damp hole over his dick, making Rhys gasp appreciatively, and when Jack shoves Rhys face-down on the bed, one hand firm on the back of his neck, the kid _moans_ , long and desperate, hips jerking as he tries to get some relief on his dick.

Jack could easily jerk off to this, one hand holding Rhys face down on the bed while the kid squirms underneath him, turning his face to scent Jack’s pillows, but he doesn’t have to deny himself anymore, he doesn’t have to _wait_ \- so he drags his hand back down Rhys’ spine, coaxing the kid’s hips into the air and kneeing his legs apart, so Rhys’ ass is in the air and on display. Rhys’ thighs tremble as Jack separates his cheeks; the kid’s leaking slick in earnest, now, trailing down the insides of his thighs in thick rivulets, and when Jack presses a finger in Rhys jerks backward into Jack’s hands, body opening up without hesitation. Jack chuckles breathlessly when he realizes the broken sounds he hears from Rhys are meant to be words: “more” and “please” and “ _Jack_ ” half muffled as Rhys presses his face into Jack’s pillows.

Jack whistles as a second finger slips in just as easily as the first. “Wow, you really need this, huh kiddo?” Rhys moans desperately in response, unfiltered _want_ threading through his voice and this, _this_ is what Jack was waiting for - this raw neediness, offered up without hesitation and without _condition_.

No-one in Jack’s life has ever offered up anything without asking for something else in return. But Rhys asks for nothing; at least, nothing that Jack is not more than willing to give.

Jack adds a third finger, the wet noises as Rhys rocks back onto them almost drowned out by Rhys’ breathy moans, less coherent by the moment as his heat drags him down and away. He’ll be gone soon, reduced to nothing but need and single-minded instinct. Jack plans to thoroughly enjoy that later - but he wants Rhys to be present for this part, so he pulls the kid upright again, encouraging him to lean back against Jack’s shoulder as he lines his dick up. The slide of Jack’s cock against his hole makes Rhys’ whole body tremble, but his eyes are starting to glaze over so Jack bites down on the ball of his shoulder to bring him back to himself, savoring Rhys’ startled inhale as he pushes in.

Jack groans as he sinks in, bracing his forehead against Rhys’ shoulder as the kid’s breath stills in his chest. Rhys makes a single small noise as Jack works himself in, and Jack doesn’t know if it’s pleasure or pain or just uncertainty; Rhys may not even know himself, but the kid’s opening up around his dick like he was _meant_ to do it, hot and slick and so goddamn _perfect_ , just like Jack always knew he’d be. Jack breathes against Rhys’ shoulder for a moment, gathering what’s left of his fraying control, the triumph of a long game well played doing just as much to set his nerves on fire as the heat pheromones filling up the room.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he says, because Rhys has gone so still against him that he’s not sure the kid is. He slides one hand up over Rhys’ chest, so the frenetic beat of his heart thumps faintly against Jack’s palm. “Come on, kiddo. Breathe with me, that’s it.” Rhys lets out a breath all at once, and then after a moment his chest expands into Jack’s hand, following the rhythm that Jack sets. The movement shifts him further back onto Jack’s cock, and Rhys makes a surprised noise, lifting himself up the tiniest bit and dropping himself back down, and _that_ seems to trip some omega switch in the kid’s brain because the next noise he makes is _hunger_ . All of a sudden Jack has a lap full of squirming omega as Rhys tries to find a way to work himself _farther_ back down on Jack’s dick, and Jack laughs breathlessly. He grabs the kid’s arm with one hand, pinning it across Rhys’ chest, and anchors his hips with the other. Rhys relaxes as Jack’s arms tighten around him, and he drops his head back to rest on Jack’s shoulder, breath coming quick and short.

“Easy, there, cupcake, let me do the work, hm?” Rhys makes a vague noise that sounds like agreement; Jack knows that Rhys would probably agree to _anything_ right now, and that makes him smile against Rhy’s neck as he starts to move his hips.

The smell of arousal is thick in the room, and Jack swears he can taste it on Rhys’ skin as he sucks biting kisses into the kid’s shoulder and neck, fucking him open with slow, firm strokes. He’s waited _so long_ for this moment, and Rhys doesn’t disappoint - he’s shaking himself apart in Jack’s arms, on Jack’s dick, and the little helpless noises falling from his lips sets Jack’s blood singing. Suddenly just holding Rhys close is not enough, and he gives in to the instinct to _envelop,_ to _surround_ , to _claim,_ folding himself further around Rhys and bearing him down flat on the bed. The noise Rhys makes when he hits the mattress with Jack’s weight on top of him - half surprise and half satisfaction - unfurls something clawing and possessive in Jack’s chest.

“ _Fuck_ , look at you -” Jack nips underneath Rhys’ ear just to feel the kid tremble, kneeing his legs wider apart and rocking back into him. “You’re so good, kiddo, so _perfect_ .” Each thrust rocks Rhys’ entire body; pinned under Jack’s weight, all he can do is take what Jack gives him, and he does it _so_ well, body flexing around Jack’s dick and pretty little half-sobs spurring Jack on. His skin is fever-warm to the touch, and although Rhys seems lost, awash in sensation, when Jack pauses to re-adjust his stance Rhys shoots an impatient look over his shoulder.

“ _More.”_ It’s just this side of a demand, maybe the first Rhys has ever made of Jack - and Jack knows words aren’t going to be Rhys’ strong suit at the moment, but he still grins and leans down to nuzzle the kid’s temple.

“Say please,” he murmurs into Rhys’ hairline, and he has no intention whatsoever of stopping but a white lie is worth the way Rhys’ eyes fly wide.

“Please, _please_ , Jack, please -” Jack’s never heard anything sweeter - his own killer omega, a contradiction that shouldn’t exist, sweating and shaking and _begging_ in Jack’s bed. The kid’s still babbling, so Jack leans down to shut him up with a swift kiss.

“Oh sweetheart, we’re just getting started,” he says, and the next thrust makes Rhys _wail_.

It seems too soon, lost in the haze of _friction_ and _slick_ and _heat_ , when Jack’s knot starts - but he’s got all day, he’s got _several_ days of this to look forward to. This is just the beginning, and although Jack plans to fuck Rhys as long and as often as possible, he can’t stop the swirl of anticipation in his stomach as the base of his cock starts to swell. Rhys can feel it too, squirming underneath him as Jack’s dick starts to catch on every thrust. Jack props himself up, pulling out completely for a moment just to enjoy the sensation of skin dragging over the hot swelling, and to admire Rhys’ loose, fucked-out hole. Rhys sobs into the pillow as Jack’s dick catches and then pulls free, but when Jack doesn’t immediately thrust back in he twists, looking back over his shoulder with frantic eyes.

“No, no - don’t, don’t stop, _please_ no, _you promised_ .” Rhys is crying in earnest now, tears falling freely down flushed cheeks, and for half-a second Jack thinks about it: Rhys a screaming, trembling mess in his bed as Jack coaxes him to orgasm after orgasm with his fingers or tongue, making him come over and over again but denying him the knot his body desperately wants. It’s a tempting thought - and one he might come back to on the second or third day - but Jack has waited too long to deny _himself_ any longer, and Rhys is never going to beg as perfectly as he does in this moment, eyes wet and body strung with desperation for something he doesn’t quite understand even as his body craves it.

It’s just as beautiful as Jack had always thought it would be, the lines of Rhys’ body a composition of desperation and need that Jack can’t _wait_ to wreck.

“Aw, sweetheart, shhh, c’mere.” Jack gathers Rhys back up in his arms, hauling him upright. Rhys hiccups, which turns into a moan as Jack slides back into him, slick and easy like he belongs. “C’mon, you know better than that. I won’t leave you hanging, kiddo.”

Rhys starts to mumble something but he loses it on a half-scream when Jack shoves his growing knot past the ring of muscle around Rhys’ entrance. Rhys keens as Jack continues to grind up into him, short little thrusts that work him in deeper and deeper.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Jack’s breath is coming short and he is _so_ close, but there’s one thing he needs before that happens. “Come on and come for me, you’re ready, aren’t you?” Rhys nods frantically, eyes closed and teeth locked in his lower lip. “Yeah you are. I’m  going to knot you real good, baby, I promise.” Jack drags his nails up the underside of Rhys’ straining dick and that’s all it takes for Rhys’ body to go tight in Jack’s arms, Rhys’ head falling back on a voiceless scream.

“ _Fuck_ , yeah, like that.” Jack growls and shoves himself in as deep as he can go as Rhys’ body locks down around his knot, the pressure blinding and hot and just this side of too much - and then it _is_ too much, and he bites down _hard_ on Rhys’ shoulder as he comes. It’s not the side with the bonding site - even flush with victory and orgasm, Jack’s not _that_ stupid - but it’s enough to give the kid back his voice, and Jack is never going to get tired of his own name like this: breathy and awestruck and _worshipful_.

Rhys is still trembling against him, fighting for breath in sobbing little gasps, heart pounding against Jack’s palm. Jack shifts him forward a bit, bracing the kid’s boneless weight against one hand while the other traces where Rhys is stretched tight around his knot. Jack rubs a thumb along the slick line where his flesh meets Rhys’ and Rhys jerks, over-sensitive skin pulling tight against Jack’s knot, but not a drop escapes and Jack grins to himself.

Rhys shifts in his arms, cautiously leaning first one way and then the other as if testing how fastly he’s stuck to Jack. Apparently satisfied with the results he leans all of his weight back against Jack, turning his head to scent up and down Jack’s neck. Jack nuzzles back along his temple, rolling his hips so Rhys can feel Jack’s knot moving inside him. Rhys gasps, dick stirring again, and Jack grins into his hair.

“Feels good, right? Feels right.” Rhys bites his lip and nods, eyes closing as Jack lazily strokes the kid’s cock back to hardness. At this point, it doesn’t take much to get Rhys going again, and soon he’s whimpering, trying to rock up into Jack’s hand even though he’s stuck fast on Jack’s knot. Jack hisses as the abortive movement puts delicious pressure on his knot, and he settles his chin on Rhys’ shoulder and keeps his touches deliberately light and teasing, drawing it out as long as possible.

“This is what your body was made for, kiddo. This is what it _wants_.” Jack rolls his hips again, deliberately pulling back so Rhys can feel the stretch. “Feel that? No one’s ever going to fill you up like I do, sweetheart, not even if you fucked every alpha in the city.” Rhys makes an upset noise at that, but it turns into a moan as Jack rubs his thumb over the head of Rhys’ cock, smearing the fluid leaking from the tip. Jack can feel his own dick twitch inside of Rhys; God, this kid makes him feel ten years younger, ready for round two before his knot’s even gone down.

“I know what you need, Rhysie,” Jack purrs, stroking steadily as Rhys’ breath picks up and the muscles in his thighs tremble with the strain of keeping still. “So it’s a good thing you’ve got me around, hmm?”

In a few minutes Rhys will be itching for stimulation again, heat chasing away his clarity, and Jack fully intends to fuck him in every way he’s ever dreamed of, and maybe a few he’s never imagined. After another knot or two Rhys should be calm enough that Jack can shove some calories in him, and then they’ll do this all over again until either Rhys passes out or Jack does.

For now, though, Jack is going to savor the _“yes”_ that Rhys gives him, breathless and incandescent with gratitude. Jack gathers the kid up close, and as Rhys comes with Jack’s name on his lips Jack congratulates himself on a long game well played.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


End file.
